


Visual Training

by etherealblades



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Dissociation, Gender Dysphoria, Trans Character, Trans Cloud Strife, Trans Male Character, Transgender, hi this is heavily me self-projecting my dysphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 11:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealblades/pseuds/etherealblades
Summary: Believe in nothing; it is so much easier.





	Visual Training

**Author's Note:**

> hi i wrote this on a whim so im sorry if its sloppy in some places
> 
> this is heavily based around trans cloud strife, which is completely canon and you can pry it from my cold, dead hands.  
> i guess you could call this a retelling of certain events in ff7 but with cloud strife being trans
> 
> tw for gender dysphoria, misgendering (kind of) and dissociation bc cloud freaks out

“I want to join SOLDIER.”

 

There was a sort of finality as the words left his mouth. The reality was closer than he ever expected it to be. It always had felt like a dream to him. Leaving Nibelheim. Leaving everyone who mocked him. Leaving what everyone thought he was.

 

“I'm going to be the best there ever was... just like Sephiroth!” He clenched his fists as he spoke, practically shaking with emotion.

 

“Sephiroth... The Great Sephiroth.” Tifa stares out at the rooftops of the small country houses that surround the two of them. It's a quiet night. A beautiful night.

 

She was unsure of why Cloud, of all people, had invited her out to the well. She could admit that she hadn't been the nicest person to him, but then again, nobody in Nibelheim could take that title. She saw the way the other kids would yank him by his unruly, blonde hair and swing their fists at his face. She heard the way the adults would whisper with hushed voices about how he was “delusional,” how he was such a problem-causer, how he was trying too much to be like the other boys when he was just a girl. She saw how his mother would try to comfort him, but the pain was evident in his eyes whenever she would insist in putting his hair up, how he should try being more like the girl he inevitably was.

 

Tifa could tell Cloud was struggling. He was young, and yet his eyes held so much grief in them. She remembered the day she spoke with him and he told her that he wanted to be called Cloud, and that he wanted to be a boy. At first, she was confused, and asked Cloud to repeat himself (she could barely understand because he had spoken so quickly and rather quietly,) and she noticed him tense up, as if prepared to take a strike. But she simply nodded when he repeated himself, not quite understanding, but not seeing an issue. People changed when they grew up anyways, what was the problem with him becoming Cloud? Perhaps that was who he was always meant to be.

 

“...Isn't it hard, getting in SOLDIER?” She finally spoke up, turning back to look at Cloud, who had perched up on the top of the well. ShinRa was very strict about who they let into the ranks of SOLDIER. From what she could remember, they didn't even have any female SOLDIERs. What would they do with someone like Cloud?

 

The question was one Cloud was prepared for, as he nodded right away upon her asking it. “I probably... won't be able to come back to this town for a while.” Or ever.

 

He knew the answer was ever.

 

Tifa looked down at her feet, unable to muster up words for a moment. She could not claim to be his friend, she knew that would be out of line. He was beat for her falling off of Mount Nibel, when she knew he only went out there to save her. She could count on one hand the number of times they had spoken to each other. And yet, she felt worried for him. What Cloud planned on doing was incredibly difficult, not to mention risky, considering his current situation.

 

But Cloud was aware of this. His voice didn't waver when he spoke. His eyes shone so brightly, with the hope of a promising future. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides as his hair shifted in the wind, his ponytail hanging loosely in the back. If he wasn't so young and small, he could have passed as a SOLDIER right there with the way he held himself.

 

She hummed and fidgeted with the hem of her dress. “Will you be in the newspapers if you make it?”

 

Cloud stared out at the sky for a moment, lost in his thoughts. Him, in the papers? What would it be like? Would he be Cloud Strife, the fierce First-Class SOLDIER, who was male and always had been? Would his body be fit, muscular-- would his chest be flat? Would his hair be short? Would he be standing next to the legendary Sephiroth?

 

...Would he even be alive?

 

He blinked. The future terrified him. But the thought of staying holed up in Nibelheim terrified him even more. He knew he would certainly die if he stayed here, living a lie he was never meant to be.

 

Finally, he nodded. “I'll try.”

 

\- - -

 

“Cloud, you're late!”

 

Aerith's soft voice greeted him as he walked upstairs, glancing out at the group. Barret sat next to Red XIII, fingers tapping impatiently on the metal of his gun-arm. Red XIII lifted his head upon Cloud's arrival, his tail swishing. Tifa stood next to Aerith, turning her head when she noticed that the man had finally decided to show up.

 

Barret's attention was on Cloud as soon as he stepped in front of the group, obviously feeling antsy. “Where've you been?”

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Cloud sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He felt slightly guilty about making the group wait, but he had his own things to attend to.

 

“So... everyone's here now.” Aerith pressed, “Will you tell us your story now?”

 

Cloud felt himself stiffen. All eyes were on him, and they were not planning on letting up now. He did owe them this story; it was the only way of explaining how he knew Sephiroth. But opening up about his past was one thing he was not very fond of.

 

Not to mention, this particular story was one that plagued his mind more often than he liked to admit. His eyes shifted to the floor, then back up at the group.

 

“...I used to want to be like Sephiroth, so I joined SOLDIER.” He began, trying his best to keep his voice still. “After working on several missions together, we became friends.”

 

Barret's lip curled up slightly. “Sephiroth? You call that a friend?”

 

The blonde shrugged. “Yeah, well... I don't know. He was older than me, and he hardly ever talked about himself.” He knew there was more to it than that, but he wasn't about to tell AVALANCHE that he was enamored with the very man they have to hunt down. He wanted to be just like him. Sephiroth was everything Cloud wasn't.

 

He noticed Tifa staring, seemingly catching on to something, and he cleared his throat. “So... I guess you could call him a war buddy... We trusted each other. Until one day...”

 

“One day?” Aerith's head titled to the side slightly in confusion.

 

“After the war, it was SOLDIER's duty to put down any resistance to ShinRa... that was five years ago. I was sixteen.” Cloud's eyes wandered to the floor, letting the images swim over him. SOLDIER, ShinRa, training, sword-fighting, destruction... Sephiroth.

 

“Sephiroth and I were given a mission-- we had to go to Nibelheim. There were reports of an old mako reactor holding something of interest there.” Cloud slowly paced back and forth on the floor, the images of that day haunting him. “We were riding in the truck on our way there... it was raining hard. Sephiroth briefed us about the mission, and I remember being kinda restless, just thinking about it. Investigating an old mako reactor. The thought just sent chills down my spine.”

 

Everyone stared intently at Cloud as he continued. “Sephiroth said the mako reactor had been producing brutal creatures, but the cause of it was unknown. We had to go there, dispatch them, and fix whatever was causing this. In the middle of his briefing, though, something attacked our truck.” He paused, remembering the snarling dragon that tore its claws into the truck, spit dripping from its gaping maw.

 

He remembered Sephiroth effortlessly climbing out of the truck, Masamune at the ready. He remembered standing beside Sephiroth as he fought, evading sharp claws while striking it with powerful blows. He remembered Sephiroth swiftly coming to his aid whenever he was knocked down, raising his sword to defend him from the vicious beast.

 

He remembered, as he laid on the ground, how ethereal Sephiroth was. How he was everything he ever wanted to be. A hero. Powerful. Loved. A man.

 

There were no biases on the battlefield. He and Sephiroth were allies. No labels mattered on the field of battle. Here, Cloud could be what he always wanted to be. A hero. Powerful. Loved.

 

A man.

 

For if he was in SOLDIER, surely he was all of these things already. Fighting beside Sephiroth, he was so much more.

 

But he was never Sephiroth.

 

He remembered Sephiroth speaking to him in that deep voice, catching him off guard. Would his own voice ever get that deep? He couldn't help but wonder.

 

“...Sephiroth's strength is unreal.” Cloud murmured. He stared at the ground for a moment before speaking again. “He is far stronger in reality than any story you might have heard about him.” And that was the truth. Cloud could not put into words how strong Sephiroth was. How he could never match his strength. He felt his gut twist.

 

“So... where do you come in?” Aerith asked.

 

Where did he come in, indeed. From an outsider's perspective, they did not understand the weight this held on Cloud. They could imagine it, but they could never feel it. There was so much about this story that made Cloud's head buzz. It made him want to throw up. Sephiroth, Nibelheim, the damn mako reactor, the weird sense of disconnection. Nothing felt right. Why? Why did none of it feel right?

 

Why could he not feel right? In his own mind? In his own body? The mind and body that was both his own but also not his own?

 

“Me? I was mesmerized by the way Sephiroth fought.”

 

\- - -

 

“What is this? What's happening?!”

 

All Cloud could make out was Tifa's voice as suddenly everything around him turned bright. He felt his body hum with the pull of Sephiroth. Suddenly, he realized what was happening.

 

“Calm down, Tifa. Sephiroth is nearby. Anything could happen.”

 

When those words came out of his mouth, the world came into focus. He froze.

 

“Nibelheim...” Tifa murmured, taking the words directly out of Cloud's mouth.

 

Cid stomped at the ground, fury quickly rising within him. “What the hell?! Why Nibelheim?”

 

“This is an illusion Sephiroth made up.” Cloud said firmly. “Nothing more to it. He's trying to confuse us. It'll be all right, as long as we know it's an illusion. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

 

Cid grumbled something under his breath, but was interrupted by Tifa yanking at his arm and shouting, “Look!”

 

The three of them turned their heads, suddenly jumping off to the side as figures approached through the fog of Sephiroth's illusion. Sephiroth himself stepped into the light, ignoring Cloud as he reached behind him to grip the Buster Sword's handle. Suddenly, Sephiroth turned around, facing the murky fog once more.

 

“All right, let's go.” He commanded.

 

More figures emerged from the mist, and Cloud recognized two of them as regular ShinRa cadets, but the last figure to emerge--

 

“That's not Cloud.” Cid commented, his brows furrowing.

 

Tifa's face dropped immediately. She took a step back, shaking her head slowly from side to side. “Stop it, Sephiroth...”

 

Cloud clicked his tongue and shrugged. “Whatever. This is stupid. I'm not falling for any of this.”

 

The Sephiroth in front of them laughed, and in a flash, the whole world turned white. One second passed. Another passed. Cloud could hear the crackling of fire and the heat of flame lick at his skin. When he regained his sight, he saw Nibelheim burning in front of him.

 

“It's... It's all just an illusion, Cloud...” Tifa reassured him, but she didn't sound too sure of herself.

 

The doors to the ShinRa manor flung open, and that same figure who replaced Cloud earlier ran out of them. Something stirred within Cloud upon seeing him.

 

The man ran over to one of the houses and started helping people, pausing only for a moment to glare up at Mount Nibel through the smoke.

 

“...What's wrong, Tifa? I told you, this is all just some stupid illusion that Sephiroth made up.” The man insisted, knowing that Sephiroth would try to break them with these mind games. Cloud wouldn't fall for any of it. He was much stronger than he used to be. He knew that.

 

The world flashed again, and suddenly, they were among the flames. Roofs around them collapsed from the flame, sending smoke and embers up into the sky. The creaking of burning wood filled Cloud's ears, and he twitched, finally having enough of it all. He stepped forward in a blind fury.

 

“Sephiroth! I know you're here! I know you're listening! You think you can make me believe that I wasn't in Nibelheim five years ago?!”

 

“You weren't in Nibelheim five years ago.” The deep, baritone voice hit Cloud like a ton of bricks as Sephiroth himself materialized in front of the group. The slit, bright green eyes bore into Cloud like he was a predator chasing his prey.

 

“You're just trying to confuse me. I know I was there. I remember the pain. The struggle. Everything!”

 

“Oh... is that so?” The corner of Sephiroth's mouth turned up slightly. He was amused. “You are just a puppet. You cannot feel anything... not pain, not struggle. How could this mean anything to you if this is all you are?”

 

He stepped forward, sweeping his arm out. He gestured to the burning town, watching it all crumble to the ground. “What I have shown you is the reality. What you remember...” Sephiroth slowly turned back to face Cloud, “...that is the illusion.”

 

Cloud's throat tightened. No, there was no way this was true. Cloud remembered everything. He felt the scorching heat of the flame as he watched his hometown burn. He felt the tears streaming down his face as he ran after Sephiroth. He felt the lance of pain as Masamune pierced his gut in the mako reactor.

 

“Do you understand?”

 

“I don't want to understand.” Cloud's jaw clenched. “Why are you doing this?”

 

Sephiroth stepped forward. “I want to take you back to your real self. The one who gave me the Black Materia that day... Haha. Who would have ever thought that a failed experiment would have proved to be so useful?”

 

Cloud's eyes bore daggers into Sephiroth.

 

“Hojo would die if he knew.” The mocking tone was evident in Sephiroth's voice.

 

“What does Hojo have to do with any of this?!”

 

“You were created by Hojo, five years ago...” Sephiroth mused, “he constructed you, piece by piece, after Nibelheim burnt down. A puppet made of Jenova cells; the power of mako. All you are is an incomplete Sephiroth clone... you weren't even given a number.”

 

“Cloud... don't listen to him...” Tifa tried to reach out for Cloud's wrist, but he stepped away from her.

 

“Please, Cloud! Don't listen to him!”

 

“What does it matter?” Cloud whipped around to face her. “None of this is true. It can't be! I won't believe any of it.”

 

How could he be a puppet? Was his memories as a child all a lie? No. He remembered the way the kids would pick on him, fists flying. He remembered trying to cut his own hair in the bathroom with a pair of shoddy scissors, crying the whole time. He remembered the way his gut twisted whenever his mother insisted he should wear a pretty dress.

 

He remembered the fateful day he climbed up to Mount Nibel.

 

He... remembered.

 

“Don't we have our memories together, Cloud?” Tifa said, trying to reach out to him. “You remember, don't you? The night at the well...?”

 

Sephiroth shook his head, silver locks swaying side to side. “Why are you so scared of those words, Tifa? Shall I show everyone here what's in your heart?”

 

It was Tifa's turn to freeze. Cloud turned to look at her, only to find her turned away, staring at one of the burning houses. “...Tifa?”

 

“Hm... You don't look like you're feeling well, Tifa.” Sephiroth grinned, before vanishing in a flash of bright light.

 

“...Is Sephiroth right, Tifa?”

 

“Cloud--”

 

“Why are you so worried about me? I'm fine. This... this is all fake. I won't believe a word that comes out of Sephiroth's mouth.” Cloud sighed. “I mean... it is true that sometimes I can't figure out who I am. There's a lot of things muddled up in my memory. But... but Tifa, you know what he's saying isn't true. I'm me. I'm Cloud.”

 

Tifa shook her head. “No... I-- That's not true, Cloud--”

 

“What do you mean? Aren't I the same Cloud you grew up with?” He remembered telling Tifa that he wanted to be addressed as Cloud; he wanted to be addressed as a man. That wasn't an illusion. He remembered how he felt. The fear in his stomach.

 

“I-- I don't know how to say it, Cloud. Just... give me some time.”

 

“Don't blame her, Cloud.” Sephiroth suddenly appeared again, behind the flames that were blocking off the way to the ShinRa mansion. “Jenvoa's ability is to manipulate looks, appearances, and voices. Your memories are nothing more than the work of Jenova, merging with Tifa's memories, to create you. Out of her memories...” Sephiroth paused, gesturing to Cloud. “...a boy named Cloud might have just been a part of them.”

 

Cloud suddenly felt nauseous.

 

“Don't think, Cloud...”

 

Sephiroth's figure flashed in front of Cloud. “Haha! Think, Cloud! Or, should I even address you as Cloud? You never had a name...”

 

“Shut up.” Cloud grit his teeth together, feeling his whole body shake. This wasn't real. How could the pain he felt all his life not be real? How could this all be fabricated? If he was fabricated, why did he feel this way? Why did nothing feel right?

 

...Did nothing feel right because he was a fake? A puppet? An experiment gone wrong?

 

“Do you still not understand?” Sephiroth hummed, watching Cloud carefully. “Then... I suppose you require more physical proof.”

 

Cloud stepped back, feeling his fingers go numb. The world around him seemed to waver.

 

“Do you remember the picture we took, right before we went to Mount Nibel? Tifa, you surely remember. But there is no way he would know.”

 

Tifa refused to look at Sephiroth, finding the ground more interesting to look at.

 

“Now... where did that picture go?” The silver-haired man looked around, a hand under his chin in thought. He was dragging it all out. He slowly walked towards one of the fake corpses, pulling a photograph out of the pocket of its shirt. “Hm... Would you like to see it? It turned out pretty good.”

 

“Cloud, don't look at it, please.”

 

Tufts of blonde hair tickled Cloud's nose as he shook his head. “...I should be in that picture. Even if I'm not... this is just a world that Sephiroth made up.” Cloud took a deep breath and stepped forward, taking the photograph out of Sephiroth's hands. There was Sephiroth, Tifa...

 

And the stranger.

 

When Cloud looked up, Sephiroth was gone.

 

“...Just as I thought. This is all fake. I remember coming to Nibelheim, five years ago. I was sixteen. I saw my mother. I saw the people in this town. I spent the night here, and I remember being excited to go to the mako reactor... that was my first mission after becoming First-Class in SOLDIER.”

 

A light flashed behind his eyes.

 

“...First Class, SOLDIER?”

 

His head throbbed.

 

“When did I join SOLDIER?”

 

His head suddenly felt heavy and loud.

 

“ _How did I join SOLDIER?”_

 

Cloud dropped to the ground, his whole body shaking. He remembered running away from home. He remembered arriving in Midgar. He remembered binding his chest. Voice training. Starting hormone replacement therapy. Practicing lines to himself. Training. But... joining SOLDIER? The more Cloud thought, the more his head hurt. He wanted to vomit.

 

“Why... why can't I remember?!”

 

\- - -

 

It was all a blur. Cloud felt as if he was floating in the middle of a vast nothingness. He couldn't focus on what was around him. Various tints of bright blue and green danced across his eyes. He groaned, feeling absolutely sick.

 

“...This is perfect! Both Jenova's reunion and Sephiroth's will!”

 

Who was that speaking?

 

“They won't be diffused into the Lifestream, but gathered here!”

 

“What are you so happy about, Hojo? Don't you know what this means?!” A higher-pitched voice than the last one. Who was that?

 

“Cloud has the Black Materia!”

 

Cloud...?

 

“Sephiroth will summon Meteor!”

 

Sephiroth...?

 

“Every single person is going to die!”

 

Cloud's vision suddenly focused. He was floating, staring directly at a massive crystal of mako. It's energy hit him in waves. He blinked once.

 

That's when he saw Sephiroth.

 

“Cloud, NO! Stop it! Please!”

 

Cloud groaned, his fingers shaking. He reached down for the Black Materia.

 

“ _ **Cloud!”**_

 

This had to be done. It was the only thing that felt right. Nothing else felt right to him. Nothing else felt real to him. Nothing else mattered. Sephiroth needed the Black Materia. What else mattered? Sephiroth needed it.

 

His arm shook heavily as he reached forward, feeling the crystal morph around his arm, allowing him inside. The Black Materia floated out of his hand and towards Sephiroth like a magnet.

 

The Black Materia flashed, and suddenly the entire cavern quaked violently. All Cloud could register was Sephiroth's eyes snapping open as the crystal slipped out of its grip, plummeting into the abyss along with Cloud.

 

Cloud felt nothing but the wind howling around him as he fell. He didn't know what to feel anymore. None of it felt right.

 

He had no number. He had no name. His body was not his own.

 

Was he ever Cloud of Nibelheim? The people he grew up with never saw him as Cloud. Cloud didn't know who or what he was anymore. His body was not his own. His mind was not his own. His fingers twitched. He wanted to tear apart the flesh on this body. The heavy weight on his chest. Why was any of this here?

 

He felt sick. He felt tired. He felt nothing.

 

He felt lost.

 

The last thing he heard was the piercing screech of some sort of monster emerging from the cavern of the Northern Cave before he lost all consciousness.

 


End file.
